He was assigned a grave with the
wicked, and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence, nor was
any deceit in his mouth. (Isaiah 53:9)

For the past several days, tens of
thousands of people have passed by a
flag-draped casket in Simi Valley,
California and Washington, D.C. to pay
their last respects to the person whose
body lies inside it. Workers at the
Reagan Library in Simi Valley say that
the number of visitors far surpassed
what they had planned for. Millions of
us have watched TV's coverage of all the
activity; I even corralled my son long
enough on Monday to show him the line of
mourners passing the casket and to tell
him a little about Ronald Reagan, the
United States' fortieth President.

America seems to always give its former
Presidents honour and respect -- whether
we did so when they were alive or not.
And who's to say that they don't deserve
it? Idolize him, vilify him, or anywhere
in between, all Americans have thought
about Ronald Reagan this week and have
reflected upon the legacy he left our
country. That's why thousands have
waited in line just to walk past his
casket. That's also why others have left
flowers, cards, and jelly beans at the
base of his statue at his library or at
his boyhood home in Illinois. That's why
our flags fly at half-mast. We recognize
that he is worthy of respect and that
his death should not go un-marked or
un-mourned.

Human beings are not always so astute.

There was no state funeral two thousand
years ago. There was no honour guard
posted around his body. He didn't lie in
state at the Imperial palace in Rome, or
at the palace in Caesarea Philippi, or
in the courts of the temple in
Jerusalem. No crowds visited his boyhood
home. There were no statues erected in
his honour around which mourners could
lay their tributes.

That's because he died as a criminal,
and who honours a criminal? He didn't
slip away quietly in his bed at home,
comforted by the touch of his family and
friends. He died hanging on an
instrument of torture and execution,
bleeding from the scourge, battered and
bruised and cut by rods and fists,
covered with spit and dirt. A few
friends, along with his mother, stood
there while he died, but they were far
outnumbered by the crowds who mocked and
laughed and pointed, by the folks who
put down their heads and hurried past,
by those who covered their children's
eyes and rushed them by. He wasn't
honoured as a king except by a mockingly
ironic sign and a criminal hanging
beside him. No one laid gifts at the
foot of his cross; in fact, soldiers
shot dice for his few possessions.

They came away with a story to tell.

There was no special tomb built for him;
his body was saved from the likely fate
of burning on a garbage heap only
because a friend placed it in his own
tomb. There was no funeral attended by
heads of state. No speeches were given
in his honour. There was no line to
visit that tomb, but only a handful of
women come to do the last things for him
that they could. But they soon
discovered that very often we human
beings give honour to those who don't
deserve it and fail to give it to those
who do.

Though almost no one else noted Jesus'
death, God noted it. Noted it, and
wouldn't have it ...

After the suffering of his soul, he
will see the light of life and be
satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous
servant will justify many, and he will
bear their iniquities. Therefore I will
give him a portion among the great, and
he will divide the spoils with the
strong, because he poured out his life
unto death, and was numbered with the
transgressors. For he bore the sin of
many, and made intercession for the
transgressors. (Isaiah 53:11-12)

The faithful followers who discovered
Jesus' resurrection also discovered that
the death overlooked by so many turned
out to be the pivotal point of human
history -- the point where God enfleshed
took on his shoulders the iniquities of
the human race. They came away with a
story to tell and they told it. They
told it to all who were within earshot
and at whatever the price they must pay
to tell it. And two thousand years
later, more honour Jesus' death than
ever before. He is worshipped around the
world, arguably more influential now
than he has ever been. Of how many kings
and presidents can that be said?

Of course, Jesus has an advantage. He
isn't dead. His tomb is empty -- a mark
of his victory over death and his
exaltation by God. More than that, it's
a promise of your own victory over death
and your own exaltation by God.

Join the procession. Pass by his Cross.
Feel the rough wood. See the dried and
encrusted blood shed for you. Bend down
to look into the tomb and see for
yourself that it stands empty. And don't
forget to honour him with a gift; lay
down your life there as the only fitting
gift for the one who laid down his life
for you. That will leave both of your
hands free to carry away the gift of
life he longs to give to you.